


Little Talks

by Sand_boy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, BOM Keith, BoM Lotor, Fluff, M/M, a little bit, angst with fluff, but a lot a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 03:19:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sand_boy/pseuds/Sand_boy
Summary: Keith’s just come back from mission, unable to rest he finds himself walking to the training rooms where he meets with Lotor and the two strike up a conversation.





	Little Talks

Coming back from missions in the Blade of Marmora was nothing like when he was a paladin. Keith always though the paladins were a bit over eccentric when it came to celebration, but he missed it. He missed Hunk making a big dinner for everyone, Shiro giving the team a short ‘well done’, he even missed Lance’s embellished retellings. At the Blade the only thing to do after a mission was rest or begin the next line of planning. Kolivan had told Keith to go back to his quarters to rest but instead he’d found himself wandering the halls. 

Without meaning to he’d made his way to the doors to the training deck, and resigned himself to the room. It was one of the only places that helped him clear his mind. The doors opened with a mechanical whoosh, and it seemed Keith had been beaten to the punch. He was sure the training rooms would be empty so close after a mission, and for the most part, they were. There was only one person inside, Lotor. 

Lotor had joined the blades a few phoebs ago and had proved himself trustworthy. Despite initial hostilities, he had shown himself to be an asset with the amount of information he was able to divulge, not to mention his help in battle. He was a skilled fighter to say the very least. That much was obvious, though he hadn’t been on this mission. Perhaps why he was in the training room. 

Keith stepped inside, allowing the door to close behind him. Lotor didn’t notice, his attention more focused on the fight at hand, so Keith just watched. Watching Lotor fight was oddly similar to watching a dance recital. He was poised in everything he did, his movements were graceful and above all else, deadly. Every turn, every strike was calculated. Each blow was lethal. If he hadn’t known the man he’d say that the fight was staged, that the training droids were programmed to move on the beat and Lotor had practiced this many times, but Keith did know the man. He knew the droids were programmed to attack and he knew this wasn’t a recital. Knowing that made it all even more impressive. A part of him envied the man, but it was well-placed envy. Envy that made him want to train and improve. 

When the training sequence finished Lotor’s breath came in ragged increments, beads of sweat formed on his forehead only to be swept off. He’d not noticed Keith before but his presence was welcome. Lotor had come to enjoy the smallest blade’s company. In all the seriousness of the Blade and war, Keith was a shade different from the rest. One who he began to covet his time with. Lotor offered him a smile, “I didn’t realize I had an audience.”

Keith huffed at the playfulness in his tone, but set it aside in a moment of seriousness, “They should use you more often, you’re an amazing fighter.”

Lotor looked over to Keith, then huffed as he busied himself cleaning off the blade he’d used, “I’m sure the Blade of Marmora will be more than willing to throw me to the front lines once I have given them all the information they wish.” Lotor answered pragmatically. 

Keith rolled his eyes, “I doubt that. You’re an assent, it wouldn’t be very smart of the Blade to lose you so quickly.”

For a long moment after that, the room was quiet. At first, Keith had thought he’d said something that had offended him, but when he caught a glimpse of Lotor’s face, he understood the silence. He was flustered. His face was a few shades darker than his normal complexion and as he looked closer he could see he was busying himself with nothing, repeating the same action over and over. Keith was confused for a second. Was it a Galra thing? Kolivan was rare with compliments, sure, but Antok was fairly liberal with praises. Plus, he’d heard tons of Galra praise Zarkon. It didn’t seem like it was necessary ‘un-Galra’ or taboo, but the obvious soon enough hit him. It wasn’t a Galra thing, it was a Lotor thing. He’d only seen Lotor appear bashful one other time and the scenario was strikingly similar. Something playful in Keith sparked, with that revelation and a grin came to his face. 

“You really are talented.” He added. It was simple, effective. When he spoke this time, he was more analytical of Lotor. He could see small things leak through the other’s control facade. His hand wavered, his lips were drawn just the slightest bit tighter, the fact he was so avid to avoid eye contact. All of it was suspect. 

Lotor finished cleaning the sword and placed it carefully back into its hold, before sparing him a glance and walking to the control panel.

“I heard you just came back from a rather large mission. A successful one at that. Is it not important to rest?” Lotor said, his voice as calm as ever, however it was obvious that he was still worked up. He was avoiding the subject, which made Keith far more curious than he had been before, so, he tried again. 

“I’d rather train, I guess. It’s better than being restless.” He began, before walking towards the panel and looking at the screen, “73,” he read aloud, “You should check the leaderboards, that’s pretty high for a single fighter sim.” Keith offered, looking up to the man. 

Lotor was... objectively a very attractive person, at least from a human beauty standard. That was something that few would argue, though before it had always been more of a statement rather than something Keith felt. What seemed to aid to that statement in a way Keith hadn’t accounted for was the fluster. Before Lotor had been attractive, a mature look with an air of regality and pride around him, but that was swept away and he was left with what he could only think to describe as cute. Lotor and cute weren’t exactly ideas that went together in his head, so to find them so well intertwined in the real world was surreal. Keith was about to back off, but he found it much harder than it should have logically been. Lotor was flustered, his hands still on the keys, as he stared at the screen, his face flushed. Another surprise came to Keith as he suddenly felt... sad.

“You don’t get complimented very often, do you?” The moment he said it, Keith was sent reeling. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. He hadn’t meant to pry or belittle him. There were so many ways that could be taken, and many of them were not kind. Keith was quiet, unable to take it back or say otherwise. So it was quiet, and to his surprise, the tension in Lotor seemed to melt away. In a quiet voice that was almost undetectable, Lotor responded, “No.”

Keith wasn’t sure if he should run or if he should say something else. The air was heavy as Lotor began typing on the panel, resetting the fighter settings to how they’d been before he’d tampered with them. The sound of clicking filled the silence. 

Keith took a deep breath, and sighed, before he spoke again, “Spare with me.”

He’d originally meant it to sound like a question but his voice was flat as he spoke, dulled as it came out like a whisper. Lotor looked over to him and with one final key, shut the training simulation down, leaving only the lights on. He tracked back to the center of the room and Keith followed his lead, the two standing in position. Both drew their respective blades and prepared. 

The first moments were always more intense. The anticipation of the fight, teetering between offense and defense, ready to switch at a moment’s notice. Sick of the wait, Keith took the offensive. He leaped forward, drawing his blade back to hit, only for Lotor to move from his path in the last moment. Keith landed smoothly and turned as quickly as he could back to face Lotor who was seconds away from a strike. He rolled from the sword’s impact and stood. He took a defensive position as Lotor charged forward. He was much shorter than Lotor which was as much a disadvantage as it was an advantage. Keith blocked him, and deflected the blow, taking a step backward before Lotor lunged forward. Immediately Keith sprung forward, then dropped to the ground, between the man’s legs, then stood, mounting the offense and landing a hard kick to the back of one of his knees. While Lotor did fall to the blow, he landed on one knee and sprung forward, away from Keith before he could continue his attack. Lotor turned back, his blade in full swing towards Keith. He barely had any time to move back before a heavy blow landed on his side with the broad side of his sword. For a moment he lost his balance and in that time Lotor took the opportunity to kick him back and force him to the ground before pointing the sword at his throat.

“I concede.” Keith huffed, and the sword was quickly put away, and a hand was offered down to him. He took Lotor’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet as if he weighed nothing. 

“You did well.” Lotor offered.

“Obviously not well enough,” Keith mumbled. He had known going into this he wasn’t going to win, but still it was a quick fight. 

“You haven’t been training for nearly as long as I have.” Lotor offered, “Progress isn’t a race against others.” 

To Lotor’s surprise, Keith chuckled, “You sound like Shiro.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that in stride or not,” Lotor said hesitantly. 

“You should.” Keith said clearly, “Or at least in this circumstance. If anyone says you’re like Shiro and they’re talking about cooking, then they’re probably insulting you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind then,” Lotor puffed in amusement. There was a genuine smile creeping onto his face and Keith wanted to keep it there, but how exactly was beyond him. He was never good with people. That was always Lance’s or Hunk’s thing— even Pidge was better than him and she just said whatever she thought. Maybe he should do that... but what did he think? Surely he shouldn’t voice that he couldn’t keep the conversation going. That would only make things worse and—

“Are you alright?” Lotor hummed lightly. He was closer than Keith remember, only a few feet away. He had to look up to see his face now.

“Yeah...” he answered, looking over the training room. 

Lotor was silent, but spoke up after a moment, “You miss them?” He observed, but his voice lilted at the end as of asking if his assumption was correct.

Keith sighed, “Yeah...”

A beat of silence.

“I understand.” He offered, “I miss my team dearly as well.”

He looked to Lotor, who was staring into the distance but looked down to him. His face drawn in confusion, Keith asked, “Didn’t your team...?” He didn’t finish. 

“Yes.” He answered. Keith realized how raw the moment was then as a look of pained longing crossed his face. He had no obligation to talk to Keith about this, he had no reason to attempt to comfort him. This was a dangerous move on Lotor’s part, something they both knew Keith could capitalize on if he truly wished to, but he didn’t. He wanted to show that the risk was safely met... somehow. 

“I’m sorry,” he offered, “I can’t imagine what that’s like.” He couldn’t. If Voltron were to abandon him, backstab him, he didn’t know if he could carry on, “You’re strong, though. Stronger than I could be in your position.”

“I’d never wish that you would have to be.” He whispered softly, pushing a lock of Keith’s hair back and tucking it behind his ear, resting his hand on his cheek gently.

Something in his chest felt as though it were melting away, calm and quietly, sweetly draining and leaving him. He reached up, their eyes locked and gingerly wrapped his fingers around Lotor’s hand. They didn’t say anything as ticks wasted away between them. Slowly, testing the waters, Keith leaned closer, and following his lead, so did Lotor. It was almost as if he was running on autopilot as they kissed. It was chaste but so sweet and gentle as if something would shatter if applied with any more pressure, but it set his heart aflutter in a way he hadn’t experienced.

**Author's Note:**

> “A comment may seem little, but it can make the author’s day.” -Aberham Lincoln


End file.
